


Steve Rogers is not very good at this

by panickyintheuk



Series: Abandoned WIPs [3]
Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Identity Porn, M/M, i actually would like to finish this one at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:25:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panickyintheuk/pseuds/panickyintheuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve impresses Tony by sitting on a mugger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers is not very good at this

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry! I was on a roll posting a bunch of old stuff and I didn't properly reread most of it, so I COMPLETELY forgot to warn for the f-slur.

While sitting on a mugger in the middle of Central Park is not the ideal time for his libido to resurface, but then it’s never exactly been cooperative. The guy staring down at him is preternaturally good-looking, as well as being incredibly sharply dressed in a suit just the right side of rumpled.

“Wow,” the guy says. “That was impressive.”

“Uh, I do Krav Maga,” says Steve. “Just as a fitness thing, I’m not an MMA nut or anything, I just - I mean, thanks. Do you need me to call the police?”

“No, that’s fine,” says Handsome Guy. “I already activated the silent alarm on my cell phone, and it’s connected to a GPS tracker, so.”

“You want to get the fuck off of me, asshole?” says the mugger.

“Uh, no,” says Steve, “that doesn’t sound like a very good idea.”

“Listen,” says Mr Handsome, “can I take you for a drink or something, to say thanks?”

“Oh, uh,” says Steve. “I don’t really drink,” he says apologetically.

Hot Stuff smiles at him. Down, boy, thinks Steve. “A coffee, then. A milkshake. Whatever you like.”

“Yes, yes, that would be good.”

“I got a fucking faggot sitting on me,” says the mugger. Sex On Legs hands Steve his phone, and Steve takes it and looks at it blankly.

“You... put your name and number in the phone,” explains Man Candy.

“Oh, right, of course. Sorry. I’m not actually an idiot. Usually.” And then, of course, he fumbles at the touch screen like a coot. Stupid big fingers. He hands it back, finally.

“Steve Rogers,” says Stud Muffin appreciatively. “That’s a man’s name.”

Steve smiles at him expectantly. There’s a pause. “And you are?”

“I’m Tony Stark,” says Tony Stark, like he can’t quite believe it himself, or like he’s already told Steve several times. There’s something odd in his tone, anyway, but Steve decides to let it go.

“Tony,” he says. Yeah. Definitely a Tony.

That’s when the police show up - it seems surprisingly quick to Steve, he’s known them not to show up at all - and he finally gets to get off the mugger.

“Listen,” says Tony, “I need to deal with this. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay,” says Steve, feeling a little dazed. Part of him really hopes Tony isn’t just saying that, but on the other hand his stomach is doing that nervous fluttering thing and he starts to wonder if he wouldn’t be better off just staying away from people entirely and getting a little dog or a parrot or something for company. He’s really, really not good at this.

 

Tony actually does call him the next day, and they actually do go out for milkshakes. The guy behind the counter gives Tony kind of a funny look as he forks the money over (Tony gets strawberry and Steve gets peanut butter and chocolate), but Steve guesses they are a little out of place, two grown men, one in a business suit, at a milkshake parlor at 9pm on a Friday night. They settle in a booth and he watches, fascinated, as Tony puts the straw against his tongue and sucks. If he’s doing it deliberately, he’s not making it obvious - no eyebrow waggling or smirking or anything. Maybe he’s just effortlessly sexy all the damn time. Or maybe he’s just sucking on a straw like a normal person and Steve is going insane.

“Did you get everything sorted out okay last night?” he asks, to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah,” says Tony, then scowls. “I don’t really want to pursue it, but the guy had a knife, so they’ll follow it up. He was just a kid, though. Seventeen. Ran away from home, got hooked on crack... I don’t know. I mean, I guess he should be off the streets.” He rubs at his eyes tiredly. “It’s not like you can just absolve people of responsibility because they’ve had a hard life, you know? But maybe...” he shakes his head. “Sorry. I’ve been thinking a lot about. Accountability. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I want to talk about you.”

“Okay. But first, um... Tony, is this a date?”

Tony opens his mouth, closes it again, and then gives Steve a look that’s tired and sincere. “I hope so,” he says.

“Okay,” says Steve, “it definitely is, then.”

 

When he wakes up, Tony is out of bed and wearing pants, surveying Steve’s bedroom bookshelf. It’s not as sleek as the ones in his living room - he keeps his room neat, but it’s not for show. Not a lot of people see it. The books in this room are mostly political and historical biographies, as well as collections of essays by Orwell and Mill and Hume, apart from the shelf of things he read growing up, Tolkien and Heinlein and Douglas Adams. He sits up in bed, and Tony must hear the rustle of sheets, because he glances over his shoulder.

“So,” he says, straightening up. “You’re kind of a liberal, huh?”

“Well, sure,” says Steve. “Wait. You’re not a Republican, are you?”

“Well...” says Tony apologetically.

“Oh my God. I slept with a Republican. I sucked Reaganite dick.” Steve covers his face with a pillow. Of course there had to be a catch.

Tony scowls. “First of all, I know I’m older than you, but I was not old enough to vote for Reagan, thanks for the ego boost. Second of all, I don’t always vote Republican. I didn’t vote for Bush.”

“So you voted Democrat?”

“Well, no. I just... didn’t vote. But I voted for Obama!”

“Oh my God. You’re worse than a Republican, you’re a swing voter.”

“What?! How is it worse, just because I’m not partisan, just because I make my mind up based on the situation rather than...”

“Ugh, because I’d rather you were evil than just totally amoral, then I’d know where I stood.” He peeks out from behind the pillow. Tony’s standing with his hands on his hips, looking half offended and half amused. He gets back on the bed and crawls over to straddle Steve through the covers. Not that he didn’t look amazing naked, but there something kind of tantalising about him just being shirtless. Shirtless with bare feet. His transplant scar is a little more obvious now, and his sinewy frame is beautifully defined and shadowed, not like Steve’s slab of muscle. He wouldn’t be big enough to pin Steve down, normally, but Steve is constricted by the quilt, so he can’t roll them over. His arms are free, though, so he reaches out and puts a hand on Tony’s abs. His erection gets a little more insistent, and at the same time, his stomach flutters for reasons he can’t quite name.

“I really like you,” says Tony.

He wants to say something flippant, but at the same time he doesn’t want to. “Yeah?” he says, and it comes out a little shy, and suddenly he feels fifteen again.

“Do you want to see me again?” Tony says, simple as that, and Steve’s heartbeat picks up, and he hadn’t let himself realize how much he’d hoped for this, that this could turn into something real, because as crazy as it sounds he can already imagine it, him and Tony, arguing about politics and watching TV together and kissing each other goodbye in the mornings. He can even imagine introducing Tony to his mother, for a deluded second. Well, but maybe he can meet Tony’s parents, and...

“Yes,” he says. Tony smiles, wide and uncomplicated, and he knows he’s smiling right back, like a fool. Tony bends down to kiss him on the side of the mouth. He’s brushed his teeth, damn him. “I have to go to work,” he says.

“What?” says Steve vaguely. “It’s Saturday.”

“Sometimes I have to work weekends. Believe me, I would not be awake right now if I had the choice.”

“Oh,” says Steve, head falling back on the pillow.

“Maybe... maybe we could do something after. If you want?” Tony says, a little tentatively.

“Oh, yeah, I think I can find time,” Steve says, faux-casually, then grins.

Tony insists on actually getting ready for work, after that, so Steve walks him to the door wrapped in a sheet and kisses him, and then doesn’t really stop until Tony’s shirt is untucked.

“Whoa, whoa, dude,” laughs Tony, pulling away, “I really really have to go to work. Believe me, I wouldn’t be going anywhere unless I really really had to.” He fixes his shirt and steps away from Steve deliberately.

“So, did you want to do anything special tonight? Because we could just hang out here, if you want,” Steve says hopefully. Not that he objects to going out with Tony, but staying indoors with Tony seems preferable.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” says Tony, and he has that funny little smile again, the one that isn’t wry. It’s only the second time Steve’s seen it, and Tony smiles plenty. It’s definitely Steve’s favorite. He decides to see how often he can make it happen. “I’ll come by around seven, okay?”

Seven? That’s hours away. “Okay,” he says, because he probably shouldn’t push it, and leans against the door frame, because Tony still isn’t letting him touch him. Probably wise. Tony strides off with purpose, and then, gratifyingly, turns and glances back. Steve watches him until he rounds the corner, and then goes and jerks off in the shower.

 

Sometimes the quiet of his apartment is exactly what he needs to concentrate on his drawings, and sometimes it feels oppressive. Today, it’s the latter, so he takes his portfolio and wanders to the independent coffee shop a few blocks away. There’s a Starbucks much closer, but he goes to this one because they display pictures by local artists on the wall, including him, and he likes supporting small businesses. Also they do a really amazing banana muffin. He sits there for a while doodling and sipping at his mocha, and then he gets his phone out and texts Peggy. Gah I met someone, he sends. He doodles a bit more. Everything’s coming out like Dr. Seuss today, which is all wrong. This book is aimed at toddlers, it needs to be a lot more classic. His phone beeps. FINALLY. What is he like? it is a he isn’t it?? xx He grins and texts back Yes he is a he, he’s srsly handsome, also he has a beard and I find it really sexy? I don’t really understand what’s happened I want to marry him. He sends it, and thirty seconds later his phone rings.

“You want to marry him because he’s handsome and he has a beard?” says Peggy.

“Well I’m exaggerating. Except not really. I mean, I really like him. It’s a great beard!” he says defensively. “It’s not straggly or anything. It’s very neat. Peggy, this is so crazy, he’s a swing voter and I think he’s, like, a yuppie. And he’s at least ten years older than me. This is insane.”

“He sounds completely inappropriate. How did you meet?”

“I saved him from a mugger and he took me out for a milkshake.”

Peggy snorts. “Oh God. That is so you. He bought you a milkshake? That’s actually sweet. You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You live like a monk for over a year and then you hop into bed with some geriatric sugar daddy with a beard and now you’re mooning about like a lovesick schoolgirl.”

“Thanks, Peggy, bye...”

“No no, fine, I’m supportive, I’m listening. What was he like?”

“He’s really smart, and he’s funny, and he’s kind of prickly but he’s a really nice guy underneath it? And I think he’s secretly kind of vulnerable, like -”

“No. Steve. What was he like in bed.”

“Oh.” Steve lowers his voice. “I kind of can’t stop thinking about it. Do you think it’s because it’s been so long, or... it was pretty fantastic. He’s very, um, assertive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peggy says, “I know how you like being bossed around. It was easier when you were tiny, though.”

“Peggy,” he warns. He is deeply, deeply embarrassed about that particular adolescent experiment, and she is never going to let him forget it. She’s one of his best friends and he loves her dearly, but sometimes he just wants to run away and never speak to her again.

“Look,” Peggy sighs, “for what it’s worth, I think sometimes people who are all wrong on paper turn out to be exactly what you need, and I think it’s great you’re getting laid, and actually from what you’ve said it sounds like he could be a decent guy, I don’t know. Just, take it easy. I know how hard you fall, when you fall, and I just don’t want you to keep getting hurt.”

“Thanks, Peggy. You’re right. I’m acting like a crazy person.”

“Well, enjoy it. Fuck it, life’s short, have fun.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Yeah, mwah mwah, TTFN,” she says, and hangs up.

Steve drains the rest of his mocha and decides to go for a walk to try and focus. He’s halfway towards Prospect Park when a woman walking towards him stops dead and stares up into the sky, so Steve turns around, half-expecting it to be a practical joke or a flashmob or something, and then he sees Iron Man. “Oh my God,” he says, and turns to grin at the woman.

“I’ve never seen him in person before,” she says.

“Me neither!”

They watch him swoop and soar like they’re at a fireworks display. He’s coming towards them. He’s going to fly directly overhead!

“Oh man,” says Steve, “I can’t believe I don’t have my camera.”

“Oh yeah, duh, I have my StarkPhone with me,” says the woman, and Steve frowns suddenly. StarkPhones, why does that give him déjà vu? Of course, that’s the kind Tony has. And his name is Stark. Steve smiles a bit - he probably gets that all the time, he’d better not mention it. The woman points her phone at the oncoming figure, who suddenly slows down and... waves at Steve? No. Definitely his imagination.

“Did he just wave at you?” says the woman.

“Uh, he was probably waving at you,” says Steve.

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, exactly. About me. That was cool though, did you get it?”

The woman grins. “Yeah, do you think I could get money for it?”

“You never know,” says Steve politely. “Well, nice to meet you,” he says, and walks off. Something rubs him up the wrong way about a person who can afford a top-of-the-line phone and still wants to sell paparazzi footage to the press. Sure, Iron Man’s face is concealed, but it’s the principle of the thing. He decides to head home instead of the park.

When he gets back, he tosses his portfolio on the kitchen counter and wanders around, aimlessly looking in cupboards. He’s not even hungry, he just feels so restless today. He thinks about Tony, going to work in last night’s suit, and gets that nearly-sick feeling again. There’s a reason he doesn’t date much. He wanders back into the living room, sees his laptop on the coffee table, and opens it. “Tony Stark”, he types into Google. And then “oh, holy shit,” he says.

 

The intercom chimes at 7.15, and he buzzes Tony up. He opens the door and Tony is grinning, and his tie’s off and his shirt is open at the collar, and Steve almost doesn’t say anything. He almost just shuts up and doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “We need to talk,” he says reluctantly. Tony’s grin slips off.

“What could I have done to piss you off between this morning and now?” he says.

“I’m not pissed. Just.” Steve waves him through into the living room and he drops onto the couch, and then Steve sits next to him, because he doesn’t actually have a lot of seats.

“You’re Tony Stark.”

“Yeees.”

“CEO of Stark Industries.”

“Ah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you my real full name. What should I have said, ‘do you know who I am?’ or ‘I’m kind of a big deal’? Most people in New York have heard of me. Most people have heard of me.”

“I am so embarrassed right now. It’s like in one of those stories where the prince meets some girl and she’s all feisty at him because she doesn’t know who he is, you know?”

“Some girl?”

He buries his face in his hands. “Okay. Now I’m actually going to kill myself. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a woman,” he adds hastily. “I’m in touch with my feminine side.”

“Okay,” says Tony. “I’m glad you’re in touch. I’d love to meet her some time. Now listen. My attraction to you is in no way based on the fact you hadn’t heard of me, and I’m actually relieved it’s come out so quickly, because I was worried about how this was going to play out. Now. Do you forgive me for being rich and famous?”

Steve takes a deep breath, lets it out. “I’m over it,” he says.

“Awesome,” says Tony.

“Oh, hey, Tony! Guess what,” he says, turning to him excitedly and holding out his arm for Tony to lean into. “I saw Iron Man today.” Tony smiles. “And I think he might have waved at me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, well, there was a woman standing next to me so it might have been at her.”

“Oh, yeah? Maybe it was at her, who was she? Anyone he could know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, so you weren’t... together, or anything? You were just standing next to each other?”

“Yeah, we just... hey, Tony, you almost sounded jealous, then.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Not of her. Maybe of Iron Man. Hey, maybe he was coming on to me. And that suit is kind of hot...” he grins at Tony and Tony grins back, and then moves to sit in his lap. “Oh, hey, sex,” says Steve, and Tony laughs.

 

He wakes up at 8am - he didn’t set the alarm, it being a Sunday, but this is actually later than he normally wakes up, even though he works from home. He’s always been an early riser, and he tries hard to keep it that way. This time, Tony is very much not out of bed. Or wearing pants. He’s half-sprawled across Steve, with his head on Steve’s chest. Awesome. Steve’s usually self-conscious about how much he likes to cuddle, but that’s obviously not going to be an issue. He suddenly realizes that Tony has now spent two consecutive nights in his apartment, and he feels his heartbeat pick up. Maybe he should suggest that Tony bring around some spare underwear, a toothbrush, stuff like that? No, he shouldn’t draw attention to it, he might scare him off. He shakes Tony’s shoulder very gently, which has absolutely no effect. He tries again, a little harder.

“Mmph,” says Tony.

“Do you have to go to work today?”

“No,” says Tony fuzzily. “Not unless there’s an emergency.”

Steve smiles. “Can you... do you have plans today?”

“More sleep.”

“Sure. And after that?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Tony doesn’t wake up again until nearly midday, but Steve remembers him saying he hadn’t been sleeping well, and how tired he was Friday night, and how he had to work yesterday. He lies in bed next to him and dozes and reads. He doesn’t usually let himself relax like this - he goes to the gym or he sketches or he jogs or he walks. He reads on a schedule, an hour before bed and then lights out. He always tells himself that it’s because he has to keep busy or he’ll get bored, but actually, he feels better than he has for ages. The nervous energy he expects to ambush him if he doesn’t distract himself stays at bay, and he feels tension draining slowly out of his limbs as he listens to Tony breathe. He can’t get too attached, he reminds himself. Early days. Finally, Tony lifts up his head.

“Oh, hey,” he says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes in an incredibly endearing fashion. “I thought you’d be up.”

Steve shrugs. “You wanna go get brunch? I know a nice place.”

Tony smiles at him. “Brunch,” he says. “You’re such a ‘mo. Yeah, I’d love to, do they have pancakes?”

“Hey, it wouldn’t be brunch without pancakes.”

Tony half-falls out of bed and starts pulling on his clothes. “Yesterday’s clothes, again. I’m such a slut. I did go home and change before I came over last night, by the way, I’m not that disgusting...”

Steve listens to him monologue and then realizes he’s still naked, and lying down, so he gets up and shrugs on a t-shirt and some jeans. He should invite Peggy out with them, he thinks.

“Actually, do you mind if I just...” and then he stops. “No, never mind.”

“What?” says Tony.

“I was going to say, do you mind if I invite my friend to meet us there. But screw that.”

“Screw that?”

“I wanna talk to you some more, if she’s there she’ll secretly be jealous and she’ll be making private jokes with me to make you uncomfortable, and she’ll be scrutinizing you, and you’ll have to be on your best behavior, it’s a stupid idea. You can meet her some other time.”

“She sounds like a great friend.”

“Oh, come on, you know it’s true. Friends always feel threatened when you get toge-” he stops. “I mean, when you. Introduce someone to them that you’re sleeping with.”

Tony walks up and winds his arms around his neck, kisses him deeply. “You,” he says. “Oh my God.” He puts a hand to Steve’s cheek with odd tenderness. “Come on,” he says, ”I’m jonesing for pancakes now.”

 

Tony puts an absolutely absurd amount of jelly on his pancakes and then starts shovelling them into his mouth. Steve watches, fascinated.


End file.
